


I Think I Like It (When It's Secret)

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bad Improv, Badly Kept Secret, Comedy of Errors Sort Of, Crown Prince Dick Grayson, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Not So Secret Secret, Second Son Jason Todd, secret relationship but not really, silly and fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bruce Wayne's princes have been seeing each other in secret... sort of. Two can keep a secret, if only they had any impulse control.





	I Think I Like It (When It's Secret)

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to use this as the "Late" prompt for the JayDick Flash Fic challenge, but then I split it into two chapters and also got too busy to really focus on a theme or do anything as silly as editing, etc. etc. 
> 
> 10/10 would recommend Lol by The Wldlfe for listening whilst reading. Off-brand for the AU, on-brand for the sentiment.

Bruce wandered the grounds, under the cover of night, content in a rare moment of serenity. All of the boys were home, even Jason, who had abandoned his adventures in marauding to attend to the affairs of Gotham even if for a short time. Dick was returned, too, from the neighboring Bludhaven, and seemed to have taken more of an interest in his studies, more so than Bruce had ever known him to be. He’d caught Dick in the library nearly every day, usually Jason afoot too, but then again, Bruce expected it of Jason.

As he was wont to do, even on quiet nights, Bruce took his route through the gardens, back into the turreted castle, and into the residential halls where his sons made their temporary homes. He stopped first by Damian’s room, as it was the closest, and nudged the door open just enough to catch the peaceful lump of his son, and the rise and fall of the blanket that promised a good, deep sleep from the rambunctious youth.

The next bedroom, down the hall, was Tim’s. Tim wasn’t asleep when Bruce entered. Instead, he was up, a weeping candle burned nearly to the end of the wick hosted a sluggish flame that cast a peach glow across Tim’s face where Tim was reading a few different scrolls. The shadows cast by the flicker only served to emphasize the bags under his eyes, and Bruce cleared his throat pointedly.

Tim jumped. “B?” he asked, before straightening and trying again with, “er, King?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Bed, Prince,” he warned. He waited while Tim sheepishly blew out his candle and then continued to hold vigil until Tim was tucked beneath his blankets.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Bruce murmured. Tim murmured back an affirmative, although he already appeared to be slipping under. As he should. Content again, Bruce closed the door and moved on.

Jason’s bedroom was only a few doors away from Tim’s, but when Bruce opened the door, he nearly mistook Jason’s bedroom for a spare. It was sparsely decorated, no signs of the books he had been carting to and from the library on a nearly daily basis. Even his clothes, if they were in the room at all, were put away. His bed was made, untouched since the last time the staff swept through.

As if Jason ever cooperated so thoroughly, Bruce offered a quiet, “Jason?” but the dim room did not stir.

Perturbed, Bruce moved along. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Jason was out, Jason was, more or less, an adult, and adults could traverse the grounds at their will. Bruce never presumed to micromanage the boys or their behavior, he could only nudge them towards his preferences and hope they cooperate (which they rarely did.)

Still, it was late and Jason should be in bed. Even if Jason were only the second son, assassins were not always of the stock they used to be, and a wayward murderer may mistake Jason for the Crown Prince, or they may decide to take Jason for the grief it would cause. As had happened before.

Shaking away his ill sourced thoughts, Bruce walked a little faster towards Dick’s bedroom which, befitting the Crown Prince, lay not with the other boys and noble quarters, but in one of the turrets. While Bruce hesitated to place Dick in a turret, where escape by any route other than grappling was next to impossible, he’d done so when Dick was but nine years old, after Dick showcased his extreme comfort with heights to two unsuspecting staff.

And so, Bruce climbed the stairs, willing himself into a calm demeanor. Just as he began to turn around the corner from Dick’s bedroom, he heard the soft whisper of wood scraping stone. Bruce froze and flattened himself against the wall. There wasn’t any light indicating someone was afoot, but in the quiet, Bruce could glean the soft steps of someone creeping away, presumably from Dick’s bedroom.

Bruce drew the sword from his hip and rounded the corner in three deep strides, drawing his blade and raising it in a silent snarl—

And then freezing. Because before him, shocked silent, crouched Jason. Jason had a hand clamped over his own mouth, to quiet himself, but his teal eyes were wide where they traced the tip of the sword to the ball of Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce lowered his sword and glanced to Dick’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He glanced back at Jason, who looked none the less terrified for Bruce having lowered his weapon. Bruce cocked his head to the side and began down the steps. After a beat, the patter of Jason’s footsteps followed.

When they reached the foot of the turret once more, Bruce snarled, “What did you do to your brother?”

Jason, who’d carried his hesitant, shell shocked expression down the stairs, furrowed his brows and frowned. “What? What are you talking about?” Jason hissed, although Bruce noted his hands were shaking. He was fearful, he was hiding something.

“Lurking around his bedroom in the dead of night!” Bruce hissed. “You have no business there, so what were you doing? And with what intent?”

Jason’s expression oscillated between upset to confused to upset and then confusion again. “Do you… do you think I’d *harm* him?”

“Not necessarily,” Bruce amended, huffing and taking a step back. Jason licked his lips and bore down harder.

“So, what, I’m a predator, creeping along your son’s bedroom walls to, what? Kill him? Take his title? What could I possibly want from Dick, Bruce?” Jason continued, waving his hands. The burst of anger fitted him better than the confusion, but Jason wasn’t exonerated yet.

“I see no other reason why you would be here at this hour. Go to bed, Jason, it’s unhealthy to keep long hours.”

Jason looked Bruce up and down incredulously, but with a huff, swiveled on his heels and walked ahead of Bruce, back towards his own quarters. Satisfied, Bruce returned back up the turret, intent on seeing Dick safe before leaving the wing.

Sure enough, when he nudged the door further ajar, Dick lay curled in a peaceful ball atop is bed. Oddly enough, there were other things out of place in Dick’s room. A pile of books in one corner, some clothes that looked unlike his in another. Bruce frowned, but closed the door and left his son to his sleep.

The next morning, Jason was still sulking over Bruce’s intrusion the night before. But Dick was as perky as ever, sweetly chattering amid tired-looking staff.

“Is the staff fine?” Bruce asked lowly, leaning into Tim, who was perched by his side.

“What? Yes, they’re their usual,” Tim said, prodding at his food but mostly drinking down the caffeinated concoctions the staff made for him alone. “At least, their usual after a night like the last; it's hard to get any sleep or anything done under_ those_ circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked. Tim raised his eyebrows, chewing thoughtfully on a small bite.

“You know,” Tim said, waving his hand pointedly. Bruce didn’t understand. He said as such. Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Jason didn’t come back to his room until late,” Tim said meaningfully as if that were a clue Bruce was missing.

Bruce thought back to the night before, to the hour at which Jason returned. It was late, late enough that most of the staff should have also been in bed by then. He cocked his head at Tim, whose eyes widened incrementally.

“Oh,” Tim said. “Did you… did you not know that Jason returns late sometimes? To his quarters?” Bruce shook his head.

“I saw him last night, but—is this a common occurrence?” Bruce asked.

Tim choked on a sip of his drink. When his coughing calmed, he rasped, “Uh, yes, I would call it fairly common.”

Bruce sat back in his chair. One instance of odd behavior was cause enough for concern, but if Jason were frequently wandering the grounds at night—was he casing the security? He hadn’t lived in the castle in years, it could be he was refamiliarizing himself with the security measures, with the guards around Dick’s turret. He could be casing Dick’s quarters for ease of access, casing Dick himself on Dick’s habits. Marking when Dick will be in his room, and when Dick leaves.

Suddenly, Jason’s behavior was less wayward and much more insidious. A dangerous pattern of behavior centered on the eldest, on the Crown Prince. Jason never seemed very interested in the Crown Prince’s roles and responsibilities before, but titles were coveted things, and Jason was, after all, only the second son.

Tim was still watching Bruce, mouth turned down. “You look perturbed,” Tim finally said, when Bruce did not respond to his gaze alone. “You needn’t be, as long as Dick and Jason are comfortable, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Bruce shook his head. “You don’t understand,” Bruce said. “Matters of Court Politics are beyond anyone’s comfort and must be kept carefully managed lest nefarious intent becomes nefarious plot.”

Tim sat back in his chair, seemingly shell shocked by Bruce’s remarks. But then there was boisterous laughter down the table. Distracted, both Bruce and Tim glanced over to see that Dick was laughing while standing next to where Jason was seated. Jason appeared flustered, his face was rosy, and he was glancing away from Dick, but he hid a wry smile.

A wry smile that could be hiding a murder plot against Bruce’s eldest. Bruce frowned and elected to watch Jason and Dick like a hawk as if he could glean the depth of Jason’s depravity from their interactions alone. There wasn’t much to glean: Dick spent much of breakfast laughing and nudging his shoulders against Jason’s, although Dick had always been physical. Jason, unusually, also sported a grin for much of the meal, although his eyes remained fixated on Dick for most of the duration. The one-time Bruce did manage to call attention to himself, Jason only frowned before glancing back at Dick.

Insidious indeed.

* * *

“Dick! I’m serious, it would behoove you to listen—” Jason began again, although Dick need only press his lips against Jason’s for the words to be swallowed between them. When they parted, Jason had flushed once again, and Dick laughed at how very well it suited Jason’s lightly freckled cheekbones.

“Dick,” Jason warned again, although his voice was just a little more breathless than it was before. “Dick, I’m serious, he’s watching me as if he expects me to turn to stone from his will alone.”

Dick wrapped an arm around Jason’s broad shoulders. Understanding immediately, Jason braced himself so that Dick could hop up and wrap his long legs around Jason’s trim waist. The sensation of his body flush against Jason's, of Jason’s muscles, flexing and rippling beneath Dick’s grip, left Dick feeling drunk.

“And yet, despite his best efforts, he’s never successfully managed to turn *anyone* to stone with but a look, least of all you. So don’t fret about him, I’ve told you before,” Dick wiggled up, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jason’s forehead. “His unease is secondary to your pleasure.”

Jason huffed and glanced away so quickly, he nearly clipped Dick’s nose with his own. Dick laughed again, urging Jason towards the bed by tugging at Jason’s kameez.

“Don’t pull,” Jason chided, although he took Dick to the bed anyways, spoiling Dick as per usual. Dick fell back onto the bedding and then wrapping his legs even tighter around Jason, forcing Jason to buckle over him.

Dick loved watching Jason buckle for him. To see him lose his footing and to see him slump over Dick. Dick may be on his back, but only because he enjoyed the perspective from which Jason fell for him.

“You worry too much about Bruce,” Dick chided when Jason finally leaned down and bracketed Dick with his arms. Dick craned his neck to kiss a trail up Jason’s wrist, shoving fabric away so that his lips could trace bare skin.

“You don’t worry enough,” Jason muttered. “You’ve never had to worry. The first son, you are as spoiled as can be. He doesn’t even make you stay, but when you do stay, he watches you like a hawk, doesn’t he?”

Dick rolled his eyes and flopped back. “You’re boring me with this talk, and you are not easily a boring person, Jason. Tell me something else. Tell me what you’ve been reading lately.”

Jason snorted but obligingly leaned down on his elbows to press a chaste kiss to Dick’s arched throat. “You know what I’ve been reading,” Jason murmured, between kisses down the column of Dick’s neck. Dick swallowed. “You’ve been beside me as I read.”

“I never pay attention,” Dick protested. “And you know I never pay attention. So tell me one of the stories you’ve read, I want to hear it.”

“A petulant brat,” Jason chuckled. “And a succubus too.” Jason sat up, once again hovering over Dick. “Maybe we should lock you in the highest tower, you’re too bright-eyed and too tempting for this mere mortal plane.”

“Stop,” Dick chided, with a petulant wiggle. “Pedestals belong to statues and statues alone. I have no need for one, nor want.”

“Sh, settle,” Jason murmured, laying on top of Dick and pressing Dick into the bedding. Dick relaxed nearly on reflex, he reveled beneath Jason’s weight. “You are not a statue, I know this,” Jason cooed into Dick’s ear. “A statue can’t flush as prettily as you can.”

Dick laughed, a melodic sound in the quiet room. “So says you; I don’t think I’ve ever met a man more suited to be a sunset than you.”

“Bold words for someone who never would sit still for his readings,” Jason muttered. “You’re not better at poetry than me.”

Dick wrapped his legs around Jason again, to hold him even closer. “I would never,” Dick said, in mock scandal. “But I am much better at showering you with affection, and I am willing to prove it.”

“No, no need,” Jason squeaked. “I believe you.”

“No, fair prince, I think I should be allowed to lavish you as I want,” Dick shot back, threading his fingers through Jason’s hair to prevent the inevitable struggle for escape that ensued whenever Dick played this game. “You beautiful, sculpted, intelligent—”

“Uh, Jason? Dick?” A voice filtered in from beyond the door. The two men froze. And then, in a spurt of extreme stupidity, Jason answered back.

“Not here,” Jason blurted. Dick covered his face, and Jason quickly added, “Uh, Dick’s not here. Come back later.”

The door opened, and Tim stood on the other side, not looking the least bit amused.

“Tim!” Dick squeaked from where he was still beneath Jason. Jason looked down at Dick, and then over at Tim.

“I was,” Jason stuttered, “I mean, we were. I was. Wrestling.”

“Wrestling,” Tim said flatly. “In bed?”

“Yes!” Dick said quickly, scrambling out from under Jason. “We were practicing our wrestling but the training rooms are just very much crowded around this time, as you probably know, and we didn’t want to injure ourselves on the stone, and so we thought it best to wrestle, er, here instead. Obviously, it is much safer than the ground and outside—”

“There are insects and sticks and… grass,” Jason finished for him. “Grass stains are no good. Not to mention it’s dark outside, and you can’t take a candle out, the wind will just eat the flame like a bat to a moth and—”

“Okay, okay, please,” Tim said, holding up a hand. “Please end my misery. I don’t care. I wanted to speak to you both.”

“Oh,” Dick said.

“Ah,” Jason added, straightening his clothes. “About?”

Tim blinked at him, unimpressed. “About how Bruce thinks that you’re out to kill the Crown Prince.”

“Verily!” Jason exclaimed, gesturing towards Tim and glaring at Dick. “What did I tell you? He acts as if I’m going to murder you in your bed! Really, the way Bruce treats him is unacceptable, it’s as if I’m going to snap at any moment.”

“In Bruce’s defense,” Tim posited. “He really cannot wrap his head around what you two may be doing otherwise in Dick’s chambers at all hours of the night.”

The men froze again. Dick cleared his throat.

“We… study, namely,” Dick said, voice hoarse.

“We study,” Jason confirmed. “And practice our languages.”

“Yes!” Dick added, nodding excitedly. “And our etiquette. Reciprocity, and—ow!” he gripped his arm where Jason had smacked him. “What? Reciprocity is an etiquette issue!”

“Okay,” Tim said, interjecting. “Should you two decide to speak bluntly to Bruce, let me know. I cannot continue to assure him in uncertain details, he does not cope well with it.”

“When has he *ever* coped well,” Jason muttered. Dick gently nudged him for it.

“To what are you referring?” Dick asked. “I’m nothing but blunt with Bruce.”

Tim looked between them, his eyes falling on where Dick’s hand rested on the small of Jason’s back. Jason caught the direction of Tim’s gaze and knocked Dick’s hand away.

“Yes, well, I’ll speak to him,” Jason said. “He must know I wouldn’t actually seek to kill Dick. If not for his faith in our… brotherhood, then for my utter distaste for Dick’s title.”

“Yes,” Dick said drily. “You do hate the title. And you’d hate the long social evenings I have, and you’d despise sitting listlessly in a throne to the drone of advisory theatre.”

“I’m sorry, advisory theatre?” Tim asked. Jason smirked.

“That’s what he calls his meetings with the rest of the Court,” Jason explained. “It’s a theatre because he does it for show and will inevitably ignore whatever he’s told anyway.”

“Give all of my secrets, why don’t you,” Dick grinned up at Jason, hand falling on Jason’s waist again. This time, Jason also seemed swept up at the moment and he too placed a hand on Dick’s hip, just a shy low to be modest.

“I would never,” Jason cooed.

“Okay,” Tim announced again, to call their attention. They both glanced his way, albeit slowly. “I will assure Bruce nothing…untoward is happening, I just need the two of you to make some efforts of the same.”

“Of course,” Dick said, leaning into Jason again already. “Go on, Tim, you deserve an evening to yourself rather than one managing Bruce’s affairs.”

“It’s not Bruce’s affair that I’m managing,” Tim muttered on his way out.

“What was that?” Dick asked.

“Nothing,” Tim tossed over his shoulder. And then the door closed behind him.

“Did he really say what I think he said?” Dick mused. “He wasn’t always this sarcastic.”

“Yes, well, he has been since I’ve known him,” Jason muttered, striding over to ensure the security of the door and then of the lock that he slid into place. “And yes, I heard him. Do you think he knows?”

“I didn’t think anybody knew!” Dick said, frowning at the empty threshold. “We’ve been discrete. We only see each other in the later evening. Most mornings you even return to bed so that you’re there when Alfred arrives to wake us.”

“But not every morning,” Jason amended. Dick waved a hand.

“No, but enough mornings. Too many mornings, if you ask me.”

“I know better than to do that,” Jason responded cheekily. Dick shot him a withering look that melted into another grin.

“I do love your face,” Dick sighed. “But stop distracting me. We need to find out precisely what Tim thinks he knows.”

“We should also find a way to dissuade Bruce,” Jason added. “I can’t perform how I must in here if I know he’s lurking out there.” This time, a rare gem of an occasion, Dick blushed.

“Fine, fine, I’ll speak to Bruce,” Dick said quickly, covering his mouth afterward. Jason slid behind him and pulled him in closed with arms crossed in front of Dick’s chest.

“It’s all I ask,” he cooed into Dick’s ear. “I would hate to be driven from the castle. Not that I wouldn’t climb the turret for you, it would just be obnoxious.”

Dick laughed, leaning his head back to rest on Jason’s shoulder. “Lover, I wouldn’t make you do that. I’d meet you in the woods.”

“Oh?” Jason asked. “But what of insects, sticks, and grass?”

“Grass stains aren’t any good, you’re right,” Dick murmured. “I suppose I’ll have to meet you naked, then.”

Jason released him to fall into the bed, and Dick followed after.


End file.
